The Return
by literary1
Summary: After fifteen years, Adam is back. However, nothing is as it was. *Warning: character deaths mentioned* *slightly canon/AU*
1. Chapter One

**Disclaimer: I do not own Bonanza or any respective characters. Any persons you do not recognize from the show, however, are mine :) **

|Chapter One|

"Morning, Joe, what brings you into town?" Sheriff Clem asked.

Joseph Cartwright grinned politely. "Supplies. While Hop Sing's away, Grace is doing the cooking, and she made a list of things she needs." He held up the piece of paper covered in small, feminine writing as evidence.

"And how are you all doing?" Clem inquired carefully. It'd been a month, but it felt like it could have been yesterday, the details were still so vividly engrained in his mind.

Joe hesitated. "Poppy seems to be doing well now. Sometimes, though, he forgets and asks where Pa is. But he always catches himself. Grace, she's been the strongest. I don't know if I would have been able to keep the ranch if it weren't for her."

"She's a good woman, your Grace," Clem said.

"I don't know what I did to deserve her," Joe agreed with a sad smile. He took a deep breath and averted his gaze briefly before changing the subject. "Well, I'd best be off to get this order filled."

"Yeah. Well, it was nice seeing ya, Joe. Hopefully we'll get to see Grace and Poppy Sunday?"

"I think so," Joe said, nodding, "Poppy's been asking about going to Church again."

"We'll all be happy to see you there. You have a good week, Joe."

"You too, Clem," Joe replied.

Clem started for the way station. It was the one thing he did everyday that he looked forward to. Seeing the new people coming into town, and sending others off. Nothing exciting happened much in Virginia City anymore. Not since the Cartwright boys grew up or left. And now, the only original Cartwright was Joe.

As usual, the stage was late, and Clem had his usual, casual chat with the to-be passengers waiting with their luggage.

"Here it comes," he said. Even before he could see it, he recognized the rattling of wheels and chains, and the clip-clopping of sixteen hooves.

The people at the way station watched as the stagecoach came around the corner and cantered up. Clem took a quick look at everyone inside. There were only five or six, two women and three or four men. One of the men by the window met Clem's eye and smiled.

Clem raised an eyebrow, feeling as at a disadvantage. This man appeared to know him.

"Clem, so you finally made sheriff," he said as soon as he and four others stepped out of the coach.

"I suppose I should know you, but I am afraid to say I don't recognize you, sir," Clem admitted.

The man grinned. He was deeply tanned and dark haired. His clothing looked expensive, though he wore it casually, with his tie loosened and the top two buttons undone. His suit jacket was folded over his arm. "It has been fifteen years. But I'm Adam Cartwright, if you can remember that far."

"Adam?" Clem breathed. He hadn't heard that Adam was coming back to town, and news like that was hard to keep quiet. His next thought was that Adam came because of Ben. His obituary had been in several, widely read newspapers. And yet, Adam seemed incredibly cheerful to be in mourning. The Virginia City sheriff hesitated. "I don't mean this badly, but what brings you back?"

"Homesickness, I suppose," Adam said, "it can really take its toll on a fellow after so long."

"Then you haven't heard?" Clem asked.

Adam furrowed his brow. "Heard? Heard what?"

"About your father," Clem said quietly. He hated to be the one to tell him, but he knew it would be harder for Joe to break the news when he was barely handling it himself. "He had a heart attack a month ago. He-" Clem paused, remembering the search party he'd put together to look for the missing Cartwright, "he died immediately. We found him in one of the pastures after his horse came back to the house without him."

It felt wrong to tell the man so bluntly, but Clem couldn't think of any other way. He replayed the words in his mind, correcting himself on how he could have presented the horrible truth.

Adam reeled back as though Clem had punched him, and he might as well have for all the pain that coursed through the oldest Cartwright son's body. Adam tried to swallow back the surge of emotions that sprung from the pit of his stomach.

"I'm so sorry," Clem continued. "If there is anything I can do or..."

"No," Adam said hoarsely, "I just want to get home. How are Joe and Hoss taking it?"

Another sore spot. Clem winced. "It's just Joe now. Hoss died eight years ago in an accident." Clem swallowed hard. Could he make things any worse for the newcomer? "I'm sorry."

"I need to rent a carriage," Adam said, monotone.

Clem suddenly remembered Joe was in town. "That's not necessary. Joe's in town today. If you would like to wait in my office, I can bring him over."

Adam looked faint. He teetered before catching himself on the stagecoach's wheel. "Thank you, if you don't mind."

"Not at all. Here, let me help you carry your bags."

Taking up both Adam's carpet bags, Clem led the way to the sheriff's office. It had moved since Adam was last in town, but wasn't far. He commented as they walked, "Only two bags?"

"I'm having the rest sent. I have a few trunks, but I didn't want to...deal with them on all my stops between Boston and here." Adam's voice was automatic, as though he were just repeating rehearsed words, no emotion behind them.

"Boston, huh? Isn't that where you went to college?"

"Yes, it was," Adam said.

The got to the office and Clem put down one of the bags so he could open the door. "Help yourself to some coffee. I put it on just a half hour ago, so it's still hot."

"Thank you." Sat down in the first chair and cupped his face in his hands.

Clem swallowed. "I'm so sorry, Adam. I wish..."

"No, I'm glad you told me, Clem, thank you," Adam said, looking up. His eyes were moist, but he appeared to be coping better now.

"I'll go find Joe and be back," Clem said.

Clem took his time walking to the general store, going the long way. He wanted to give Adam time to collect his thoughts before he and Joe saw each other again for the first time in over a decade. He also wasn't looking forward to telling Joe about Adam. While Joe had definitely mellowed in the past few years, he still had an occasional temper flare. Clem did not want to be the brunt or in the middle of it.

He caught Joe just as the man was walking out. "Joe, you won't believe who came in on the stage today." Clem decided to play it light. He grinned when Joe cocked his head curiously.

"I'm dying to know," Joe said dryly, shifting his box of goods in his arms.

"Your brother. Adam." Clem waited for the explosion. It didn't have to be anger. It could be joy, or surprise, or confusion, or even disbelief.

However, all Joe said was, very calmly, "Where is he?"

"In the office. I-I told him about your father and brother. I didn't know if you'd...well, I suppose, you could've, but-" Clem suddenly was second guessing his decision to tell Adam everything.

"Thanks, Clem, I appreciate it," Joe said sincerely. He added, "How's he taking it?"

"As well as can be expected," Clem admitted honestly.

Joe nodded. "Let's go."

Joe left the box of goods he had in his wagon across the street, then followed Clem to the sheriff's office. Clem was still waiting for an outburst of some sort. Maybe it was simply delayed, or waiting until they got to Adam.

He opened the office door, and Joe slid past him. "Adam," he said, as soon as he saw his oldest brother.

Adam was sitting with his elbows on his knees, and his hands clasped. His head was bowed, his shoulders slumped. He looked like a truly, broken man.

He looked up when he heard his name. "Joe!"

Adam sprung up and the two men embraced. Joe rested his forehead in the crook of Adam's shoulder and neck, just like he used to when he was much younger. It was a comforting place to be, just being held up by his big brother, who could make everything right in the world. Only, Joe maturely knew, this time, he couldn't. Not this time.

"I am so sorry, Joe," Adam said, pulling away.

Joe tried to smile reassuringly. "Why, Adam? They were your father and brother too."

"But I should have been here," Adam almost whispered, "I should never have left."

"No changing that now, older brother," Joe said firmly. He gave Adam's shoulder a sound pat. "Are you ready to come home? I've got the wagon here, and I'm ready to go when you are."

Adam stared at Joe with a look of mixed confusion and gratefulness. "I'm ready, Joe."

TBC

* * *

_A/N: I have a lot of this story already written, I'm just rewriting it so it may take a little longer. Suggestions and comments, as always, are appreciated :)_


	2. Chapter Two

|Chapter 2|

"I'm married," Joe said after about twenty minutes of driving in silence.

Adam smiled. "That's wonderful, Joe. What's her name?"

"Grace. We've been married almost seven years now. We have two children, Poppy and Beatrice. Poppy is six and Bea is eight months."

"Poppy..." Adam didn't know what to make of the unusual name.

Joe laughed. "His real name is Benjamin Eric. However, he-for some reason-got to calling himself Poppy. The name stuck."

"The house looks different now, with a woman's touch, you know," Joe went on, as if he wanted to warn Adam. "Grace is a wonderful homemaker. She actually loves to cook, but she doesn't get to much when Hop Sing is around. However, he takes a lot more time visiting his family now that he knows the house won't fall apart at the seams with him gone."

Adam laughed. "He must appreciate the help."

"He does," Joe agreed, "though he never admits it."

The conversation on the way to the ranch house from Virginia city stayed clear of any mention of Ben and Hoss Cartwright. Joe was in good spirits, though there was a dark undertone to his attitude, as though something were buried deeply away.

Adam watched the scenery closely as they drove, searching for differences in the land he once knew so well; however, except for an occasional missing tree, or fence, everything was as it used to be.

"Here we are," Joe said needlessly when they pulled into the yard. He put the break in place and jumped down from the driver's seat. "Hasn't changed much, has it?"

"No," Adam said, climbing down as well.

"Wait until we get inside. It's Grace's masterpiece in there. She's quite proud of it."

As Joe spoke, a woman came out of the house, a baby on her hip, and a small boy clinging to her skirts. "Who's our company, Joseph?" she asked, a broad smile on her face as she cast a friendly look on Adam.

Adam grinned back and removed his hat politely.

"Grace, I'd like you to meet my brother, Adam," Joe said, coming to the porch. He turned to face Adam. "Adam, this is my wife, Grace, my Son, Poppy, and my daughter, Beatrice."

"The legendary Adam Cartwright," Grace said, her smile never faltering, "Your father and brothers told me so much about you. I feel as though I know you already."

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Grace. I never guessed Joe would be the first to settle down, but he's managed it," Adam said, shooting Joe a grin.

Joe didn't meet his eye, but caught hold of the little boy still hiding behind his mother. "Don't you want to say hello to your Uncle Adam, Poppy?" he asked, scooping Poppy up into his arms.

The hazel eyed boy stared warily and offered a soft, "Hello."

"Hello, Poppy," Adam said, approaching slowly.

Poppy clung tighter to Joe, but asked timidly, "You're pa's big brother?"

"Yep. I'm a big brother just like you." Adam nodded at Beatrice, who was staring at him curiously with big blue eyes. "Are you a good big brother to your little sister?"

"I play with her everyday and watch her while Ma does chores," Poppy informed him.

Adam crossed his arms. "I bet your Ma is happy to have a good helper like you."

"Uh, huh," Poppy agreed, nodding. He smiled.

"Come in, Adam, Joseph. Poppy and I just took the cookies out of the oven," Grace said. She turned around with a sweep of her full skirts and rushed back inside to ready the promised cookies.

"Would you like to help Uncle Adam with his bags, Poppy?" Joe asked, putting his son down.

Poppy ran over to the wagon and climbed up. He grabbed one of the carpet bags and tugged on it uselessly until Joe came and helped him take it out.

"Take it up to Uncle Adam's room," Joe said, grabbing the other bag and following the hobbling Poppy up the porch.

Adam grabbed the box of goods from the wagon and followed.

"Ah, you didn't have to do that, Adam. I could've gone back and gotten it later," Joe said.

Adam chuckled. "Let me be useful, Joe."

"Fine, then. You take that into the kitchen. Grace will be happy to get it."

Stepping into the ranch house for the first time in fifteen years made Adam almost drop the box. In the same way it was different, it was also the same. Lace and flowers decorated most of the old, sturdy furniture, and the rugs had been exchanged. It was homier, Adam decided, and felt smaller in a way.

He wandered into the kitchen, which hadn't changed in the slightest, except for the pretty woman who seemed quite at home in it. Grace was adorning a plate with cookies, carefully aligning them. She turned slightly at the sound of his step.

"Oh, Adam, you may put it on the counter. Thank you." She continued her task. "Is it very different than when you left?"

"A little," Adam admitted, "but it is better. I like it."

"Your room hasn't changed," Grace said, "Hop Sing has made sure of it. He dusts it every week, and airs it out once a month. It should be how you left it."

Adam shifted uncomfortably. "I'm sorry I didn't write before I came. I should've. I don't know why I didn't."

"Don't worry yourself, Adam, this is your home. You needn't an invitation to come home." Grace said it so matter-of-factly that Adam couldn't help smiling.

"Thank you, Grace."

She finished the plate of cookies and picked it up. "Shall we go to the main room? I'm sure you and Joseph must have so much to talk about."

"Lead on, milady," Adam said, gesturing grandly.

Grace gave him an amused look. "You are just as charming as your father always said." With that, she flurried out of the kitchen in a swirl of skirts.

When they came into the main room, Joe and Poppy were coming down the stairs, Poppy taking the steps two at a time.

"I carried your bag all the way up the stairs by myself," Poppy boasted, puffing out his small chest proudly as he approached his newfound uncle.

Adam ruffled the lad's curly mop of dark hair. "Good job, buddy."

"Sit down everyone," Grace said, putting the cookies on the short table before the settee. "I'll go put the coffee on. Meanwhile, help yourselves." She gave Poppy a sharp look. "Only two cookies for you, though, young man. You had quite enough dough already."

"Yes, ma'am," Poppy agreed, sitting cross legged on the floor.

The front door opened just then, and a man between Adam and Joe's age stepped in. He looked comfortable barging into the home until he saw Adam. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't realize you had company."

"Come on in, Candy, I'd like you to meet my brother, Adam," Joe said.

The man, Candy, grinned widely. "The famous Adam Cartwright? Pleasure to meet you." In four quick strides, he was close enough to extend his hand to shake Adam's warmly. "I'm David Canady, however, my friends call me Candy."

"Would you like to join us for coffee and cookies," Grace asked.

Candy ducked his head. "If you'll have me, Mrs. Cartwright. I'm not the cleanest cowboy on the Ponderosa at the moment."

"Go wash your hands and face out back, then," Grace scolded, putting her fists on her hips. "Honestly! Sometimes I swear I'm raising three children."

"Ah, now," Candy said, "Joe isn't that bad." He jumped back just as Grace's hand swept by to smack him, and escaped out the door.

Grace shook her head, smiling, and continued to the kitchen.

"How long have you known, er, Candy?" Adam asked.

Joe sat back in his chair, recalling. "Oh, I'd say twelve or thirteen years now. He's been like an uncle to Poppy and Beatrice."

"That's nice," Adam said, a chord of jealousy flaring in his heart. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He didn't know if he was going to like the Candy fellow.

TBC


	3. Chapter Three

|Chapter Three|

Grace had been right. His room hadn't changed at all. It was just as he left it all those years ago. He sat down on his bed and took off his boots before laying back and staring at the ceiling.

It had been a long afternoon, talking and laughing when really, he wanted to be mourning the deaths of his father and brother. But Hoss had died eight years before, and his father a month ago. Joe and his family were just settling into normal life again, trying to balance without the missing pieces.

And Adam came along to disrupt it all.

Surely, Joe and Grace were making him feel more than welcome in spite of everything. He'd expected Joe to be angry with him, and for good reason. Adam hadn't written in over eight years, and that was just before he moved again unexpectedly. It was not like him not to write, but something had happened, something he'd hoped to use as an excuse now, before he found out that Joe was the only family he had left.

His father might have understood, or at least tried, while still disappointed at Adam's lack of responsibility. Hoss would have been forgiving, even if he didn't understand. He would just be happy Adam was back. Joe...Joe was going to be tough, Adam had thought, not trying to understand, not willing to forgive. Adam had been ready to receive a cold shoulder from his youngest brother for months to come.

But it wasn't like that. Pa was gone, Hoss was gone, and the Little Joe Adam though he knew inside and out was gone.

Joe was different. He was collected, and mature. His features were careworn from trials and heartache Adam didn't even know about yet. And worst of all, he was polite towards Adam, like he would be to an old acquaintance. He never delved any further than small talk.

Adam would give anything for Joe to simply blow up at him, like in the old days, when no rational way of thinking seemed logical to the emotional young adult. He'd expose every thought of displeasure he had, usually meaning only half of it. But at least, back then, Adam knew how Joe felt towards him.

Adam couldn't help but think that Joe was holding back, perhaps only for the sake of his young family.

Getting up from his bed, Adam picked up his carpet bags and put them on the bed. He stared at them a few moments before he started unpacking. He stopped when he found his journal.

"All my secrets are written in this little book," he sighed. He opened the front cover and read the inscription, even though he had long ago memorized every dip, loop and curve of the handwriting.

_To my beloved Adam,_

_Remember what we had, and not what came to be._

_Love, Sarah_


	4. Chapter Four

|Chapter Four|

"You've been quiet tonight," Grace observed, resting her head on Joe's shoulder.

Joe looked up from the book he was pretending to read. "Have I?"

"Mmm, hmm," Grace hummed, reaching out and taking the book. "Since when do you read Shakespeare at bedtime?"

"I've done it before," Joe argued lightly. He sighed. "Alright, if you must know, I've been thinking about Adam."

"Who isn't? He's the same brother who left fifteen years ago, and hasn't written in over eight. That must make you feel _something_," Grace urged.

Joe shook his head. "I don't know what to feel."

"Do you want to know what I feel?" Grace asked, taking his hand. She waited for Joe to nod before she continued. "I feel sad for Adam. He comes home after years away, expecting everything to be as it was, but nothing is. Everything is changed." Grace squeezed his hand. "Even you."

"Why would he expect everything to be the same?" Joe asked, his tone heating to the mood he'd been keeping at bay, "It's been fifteen years! And he was always the one wanting to change with the times, make everything bigger and better. And why didn't he ever write? We didn't even know where he was. We couldn't tell him Hoss was gone, or that Pa had..." Joe left the sentence unfinished.

"Joseph," Grace soothed, "I've heard too much about Adam to think he didn't have what he thought was a good reason for what he did. Maybe, before we judge him, we need to ask him."

"I can't, Grace," Joe whispered, "I can't talk to him like I used to."

"Why?" Grace asked, "He's still your brother."

Joe looked at her. "And he still abandoned us when we needed him most."

"He didn't know that," Grace said, "Adam made a huge mistake, and there is nothing he can do on the face of this earth to change it. If he is willing to start over, maybe we should give him the chance."

"I am," Joe said earnestly. He shook his head. "If I were ten years younger, in this same situation, he wouldn't be allowed within fifty miles of the place."

Grace smiled, remembering the Little Joe Cartwright she'd been in love with even before he knew she existed. She'd known he would change with time, and he had. In many ways for the better, and some, sadly, for the worse.

"I'm so happy you're ten years older, Joseph," she said, leaning up and kissing him.

"Me too," Joe admitted, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her closer. "I'm actually very happy he's back, Grace. I've been worried about the paperwork. Pa taught me how to do it, but it's never been my strength."

"Strength," Grace scoffed teasingly, wrinkling her nose at him. "You simply don't like it. You'd rather be out there breaking horses, herding cattle, going on drives. Keeping you indoors is like containing the wind."

Joe shrugged. "Maybe; but no matter, It will be nice to have someone I can trust to take care of the detailed work."

"I agree," Grace said, "and it will also be nice to have your brother back."

"Maybe," Joe agreed reluctantly, "but we'll have to wait awhile to be sure."


	5. Chapter Five

|Chapter Five|

Adam woke up to the sound of footsteps trudging down the stairs. He squinted at the window, seeing the first rays of the sun peering through his curtains. It had been many years since he woke up at the crack of dawn, and honestly, he didn't entirely miss it.

However, this morning was different. It was his first morning home, and he intended to work for his keep. Within a few minutes he was dressed. Deciding to trek downstairs before putting on his boots, he took them up and crept out his bedroom door.

It felt so familiar, walking noiselessly down the hall, and stairs, avoiding the creaky boards with ease.

"Good morning, Adam," Joe said in a low voice.

Adam startled in spite of himself, but regained his composure quickly. "Good morning, Joe. I thought I could help you with the morning chores."

"Yeah, thanks," Joe said. He was sitting on the settee, putting on his boots.

Adam sat down beside him and started putting his own boots on. "Looks like you and I think the same way."

"It was you who taught me this trick," Joe chuckled, nudging Adam lightly with his elbow. "I remember sneaking down early in the morning..."

"More like late in the night," Adam corrected.

Joe made a face. "I remember sneaking downstairs, going to go into town, when suddenly you were there. You said, 'If your going to do something stupid, Joe, you'd best wait to put your boots on till after your downstairs.'"

"You would have figured it out on your own eventually," Adam said. "Those weren't profound words of wisdom or anything."

"But I still remember them," Joe sighed.

Adam nodded. "Me too."

"I don't know how Pa kept his wits about him with me for a son." Joe leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, hands clasped. He shook his head. "If Poppy ends up doing half of what I pulled when I was a teen..."

"I guess being a father does that to you," Adam said with a grin, "Makes you really appreciate your own father."

Joe's voice stiffened as he stood up. "I suppose it does." He headed for the door, grabbing his coat off the rack and shoving his arms into the sleeves.

Adam finished pulling on his left boot and stood, turning to face Joe. "I think we need to talk."

"You think?" Joe asked in a mildly sarcastic tone. He tilted his head. "Adam, you don't have to be a father to appreciate what your own father did for you. Pa...he thought you were dead, Adam. _I _thought you were dead. Why didn't you write after eight years ago?"

It was not the way he had intended to pose the question. In fact, Joe felt an edge to his voice he'd spent years trying to do away with. And now it was back. His little brother voice that pleaded for an explanation.

He cleared his throat. "Why, Adam."

"It's not a simple explanation, Joe," Adam began. He bit the corner of his bottom lip nervously.

"I'm listening," Joe said, crossing his arms. It looked like he was being stiff and firm, but really, his body was quaking. A mixture of anger, disappointment and anticipation.

Adam averted his gaze to the floor. "Maybe we should talk in the barn," he suggested, "so we don't wake anyone up."

"Alright," Joe agreed. He turned and opened the door, walking out without waiting for Adam to come along.

Adam smiled grimly. The Joe he remembered was still there, however more contained. He grabbed his coat as he walked out the door.

* * *

_"Have you told them yet? About us?" Sarah asked, resting her hands on Adam's shoulders to peer over them at the letter he was writing. _

_Adam turned to smile up at her. "I am trying to describe you in words. However, I don't have enough ink or paper to do so."_

_Sarah rolled her eyes to the ceiling. "Really, Adam, flattery will get you nowhere. I know that you've been putting off telling them."_

_"No," Adam protested, "I just haven't had time to write since I moved to here and well...meeting you."_

_"And marrying me," Sarah added, kissing his cheek, "you mustn't forget the most important part, hmm?"_

_"Not in a thousand years, dearest," Adam agreed with a bright smile. _

_"Well, if you're going to spend the afternoon trying to put me into words," Sarah said decisively, "I am going to town. I have some things to pick up."_

_"Alright, love," Adam said, bending his head to kiss her hand. "Maybe we can meet at that restaurant you love so much for supper."_

_"And at what time shall that be?" Sarah asked with faux indifference._

_"Is five o'clock too early?"_

_Sarah sighed. "I suppose that will be alright." Her laughter like music floated behind her as she went to get her bonnet, shawl and purse from the entry._

* * *

_Adam burst into the station, his dark eyes searching the bustling room. He spotted his wife immediately, sitting on one of the many chairs that lined the front wall. An officer was kneeling before her, a notebook in hand. _

_"Sarah!" he called, making his way to her, weaving through the crowd. _

_At the sound of his voice, Sarah looked up. Her eyes were red rimmed, and her usually rosy cheeks pale and wet with tears. "Oh, Adam," she sobbed, standing and throwing herself against his chest, pressing into him for comfort. Adam held her, his cheek against her soft hair. _

_The officer stood also, waiting for his chance to speak. _

_"What happened?" Adam asked him, his voice accusing in spite of himself. _

_"Sir, Mrs. Cartwright is one of two surviving witnesses to a shooting at the bank."_

_"A robbery?" Adam clarified._

_The officer shook his head. "No, sir. It is believed to be an act of simply violence. No robbery was attempted, according to Mrs. Cartwright, and our other witness."_

_"How many were...?" Adam knew he needn't finish the question. _

_"Five, sir," the officer replied. He swallowed. _

_Sarah spoke up, her voice quivering. "He killed a child, Adam. An innocent little boy!"_

_A lump came to Adam's throat as he tried to imagine the horrific event that had taken place. He closed his eyes when a wave of nausea came over him. How close had his wife been to losing her life as well?_

_"We have arrested the man," the officer went on. "We need your wife to identify him at trial."_

_"Of course," Sarah breathed, her voice hoarse. She stepped away from Adam so that she could face the officer. She squared her shoulders. "I will do anything to put that man's neck in a noose."_

* * *

"I am a widower, Joe," Adam said when they had entered the barn.

Joe stared. "What?"

"I married a woman named Sarah, eight years ago," Adam explained.

"What happened?" Joe asked carefully.

"She was killed, seven and a half years ago." Adam's voice quavered slightly.

"Killed?" Joe whispered, memories of his own first wife rushing back to him. He clutched Cochise's stall wall for support.

Adam took a deep breath. "She was one of two key witnesses in a murder case. A man named James Comers went into a bank, and proceeded to shoot and kill five people, including a small boy. Sarah testified against him along with another man, thereby sentencing the animal to death.

"Before the trial, Sarah received several death threats from an anonymous sender, saying that if she testified, she'd not live to regret it. Of course, we took precautions," Adam went on, "and she testified anyway. After the hanging, Sarah and I moved from New York and went under another name. I did not dare send any letters out under our real name, afraid that whoever was threatening my wife would find us."

Adam stopped, trying to gain control of his voice. "A year later, she was shot while we were in town. She survived for five days. It was nearly my birthday, and she had gotten me a journal. I found it in the drawer of her nightstand a couple months after she died. She'd written an inscription during those five days, when she knew she was dying." Tears were rolling down Adam's face as he tried to continue. "It said to remember what we had, and not what came to be." He took shaky breath. "But how could I, Joe? And I'd never written her into words to tell you and Pa and Hoss about her, and so I never wrote you."

Joe was speechless. His mind felt numb. However, finally, he spoke. "I'm so sorry, Adam."

Closing the distance between them, Joe wrapped his arms around Adam. Tears had come to his own eyes as raw emotions of Alice's murder came to mind. How desperate he had been, how devastated. He'd felt so alone in the days, weeks, and months after her death. No one could truly understand what he felt.

Never in his life had he understood the brokenness of a man so well.

If only Adam could know he was not alone.

TBC


	6. Chapter Six

|Chapter Six|

Joe knew there were more questions to be asked of Adam. Two of the last eight years had been explained, but there were six more to account for. If Joe knew anything about Adam, it was that he would not let a murderer go free.

Especially the murderer of his wife.

Eight years ago, when Alice died, it had all seemed a horrific accident. Devastated by the loss, Joe decided he needed to leave. Leave home and roam the west for a time, running from searing painful memories.

His father had not entirely agreed, but he understood. After all, Ben had lost three wives of his own. One to childbirth, one to murder, and another to an accident. He knew every pain a man could bear when it came to loss of a beloved wife.

Joe did not keep track of the days or the towns he passed through as he went along. If night fell and he was in the wilderness, he'd camp. If he was in a town, he'd rent a room.

It was one of the nights he rented a room that he realized the truth about Alice's death. As he prepared to put the key in the lock of his room, he heard music. A gentle melody he'd known since his earliest memories.

The next several minutes were a blur. He barely remembered what took place as he burst into the room from which the music came. He threatened its occupants, demanding to know where they had gotten the music box that sat on their table.

The music box. That was the only thing he remembered clearly. Seeing the music box sitting on the table. His mother's music box. The one his father had given to her. The one that he'd allowed Joe to keep in his room after his mother died. The one that he would wind up at night when he especially missed her. The one he'd given his own bride on their wedding day. She had been so happy, so proud of it. She cherished it just as Joe hoped she would.

And now it was in a stranger's room. Why? He'd demanded the question. Frightening the man and the saloon girl who claimed they knew nothing. However, finally, the woman told all she could. But it was enough.

Enough to know that Alice's death was not an accident.

* * *

"G'morning, Joe, Adam," Candy said, coming into the barn.

The brothers were feeding the horses. They were quiet, but Candy did not expect anything else. After all, the brothers had just met for the first time in fifteen years. That had to create a tension, especially with Joe.

However, after the two men muttered good morning, Candy realized there was something more to their silence. Something he'd missed. He grinned awkwardly. "I guess you don't need my help with the chores this morning, huh, Joe?"

"Hey, don't try to get out of it too easy," Joe said, his attitude brightening a little. "We still have these stalls to muck out."

"Of course you do," Candy sighed. However, he set about the work Joe had vaguely asked of him.

"I was thinking I'd go into town after breakfast and pick up some supplies. Is there anything I can get for you, Adam?"

Adam looked up from his work. "Actually, if you don't mind, I think I'll ride in with you. I need to get some new clothes. These city duds aren't going to do me much good out here."

"Sure," Candy agreed, smiling. He looked forward to the opportunity to get to know the missing Cartwright brother.

* * *

_A/N: Sorry for the short chapter! This is really just a transition chapter, trying to move a little bit away from the drama/angst of the last chapter. I don't know why, but I had severe writer's block for this chapter! I decided that I just needed to write and get it over with. This is what I came up with. Fortunately, I already know what the next chapter is going to be about, so it shouldn't be long before it's up. Also, with Christmas vacation coming up, I'll have more time to write :) Thanks for waiting, all. And thank you so much for the support and reviews!_


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